Last Night

And last night I stumbled into an empty parking lot
And this morning a small part of me died
And last year I wished to be here
And this afternoon I’ll wish I was dead

Because it’s a bit colder than I remember
And yesterday I could swear I was flying
Maybe it was the influence of the air around me
Or maybe the effects of what I did

And I’ll pack my bags when I get back home
Because nowhere can hold me long enough
To miss what I’ll leave behind when I’m gone
Because my baggage gets bigger every time

And on Sunday I’ll wake up in a shopping cart
Wondering what happened to my wings from last night
And how that afternoon I’ll just sit and miss every single kid
But none of them will remember my name

And I bet that by Monday I’ll forget about this place
And by Tuesday that boy will be faceless again
Just a notch on the bedposts I used to replace my spine
And by Saturday, I’ll try again to find him

And on the table, I see a note that my rent’s overdue
And in the fridge there isn’t anything that looks like food
And I’m sure in five minutes I’ll call all my brand-new friends
And by tomorrow I’ll tell them all good-bye

But by next month I’ll keep finding reminders
And my fridge will be empty yet again
And I still won’t be able to get that car
And I won’t be able to leave that parking lot.

Every Sunday will still be just another “last night,”
And every morning will still be the monster I can’t shake
And every Monday will still be somewhere else to hide for a while
And every afternoon, I’ll still wish that it was a year ago.